'IHIIflilMlliynilulUllllMUMtUMll 





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Class 
Book 




fiB»< rfS» / 1 / 



Copyright}! 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




POEMS OF THE 
HEART 




Selected and Arranged 

ly 
RICHARD BROOKS 



EDITOR OF 

••HELPS TO HAPPINESS" 
"OLD FRIENDS ARE BEST" 
"FRIENDSHIP'S JOYS BE YOURS" 



NEW YORK 

Dodge Publishing Company 

214-220 EAST 23d STREET 






Copyright, 1913, by 
Dodge Publishing Company 









.A357436 





TRUE FRIENDSHIP 



NEVER crossed your thresh- 
old with a grief 
But that I went without it ; 

never came 
Heart hungry but you fed me, 
eased the blame, 
And gave the sorrow solace and relief. 
I never left you but I took away 
The love that drew me to your side again, 
Through the wide door that never could 

remain 
Quite closed between us for a little day. 




[5] 



jtM 





TRUE LOVE 

ET me not to the marriage of 
true minds 
Admit impediments. Love is 

not love 
Which alters when it altera- 
tion finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove : — 

no ! it is an ever fixM mark 

That looks on tempests, and is never 

shaken ; 
It is the star to every wandering bark, 
Whose worth's unknown, although his 

height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips 

and cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass 

come ; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and 

weeks, 
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of 

doom : — 

If this be error, and upon me proved, 

1 never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

— William Shakespeare. 







LUCY 

HE dwelt among the untrod- 
den ways 
Beside the springs of Dove ; 
A maid whom there were 
none to praise, 
And very few to love. 

A violet by a mossy stone 

Half-hidden from the eye ! 
— Fair as a star, when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

She lived unknown, and few could know 

When Lucy ceased to be ; 
But she is in her grave, and, oh, 

The difference to me ! 

— William Wordsworth. 





t7] 




____^____ 




OMNIA VINCIT 

AIN would I change that note 
To which fond Love hath 

charm'd me 
Long long to sing by rote, 
Fancying that that harm'd 
me : 
Yet when this thought doth come 
" Love is the perfect sum 

Of all delight," 
I have no other choice 
Either for pen or voice 
To sing or write. 

Love ! they wrong thee much 
That say thy sweet is bitter, 
When thy rich fruit is such 
As nothing can be sweeter. 
Fair house of joy and bliss, 
Where truest pleasure is, 

I do adore thee : 

1 know thee what thou art, 
I serve thee with my heart, 

And fall before thee ! 





[8] 




i 





A WELL OF LOVE 




ETTER to sit at the water's 

birth 
Than a sea of waves to win, 
To live in the love that floweth 
forth 

Than the love that floweth in. 
Be thy heart a well of love, my child, 
Flowing and free and sure, 
For a cistern of love, though undefiled, 
Keeps not the spirit pure. 

— George MacDonald. 




[9] 





MY LOVE 





'OT as all other women are 
Is she that to my soul is dear ; 
Her glorious fancies come from 

far, 
Beneath the silver evening 
star, 
And yet her heart is ever near. 



n 

Great feelings hath she of her own, 
Which lesser souls may never know ; 
God giveth them to her alone, 
And sweet they are as any tone 
Wherewith the wind may choose to blow. 

in 

Yet in herself she dwelleth not, 
Although no home were half so fair ; 
No simplest duty is forgot, 
Life hath no dim or lowly spot 
That doth not in her sunshine share. 




[10] 










IV 

She doeth little kindnesses, 

Which most leave undone, or despise : 

For naught that sets one heart at ease, 

And giveth happiness or peace, 

Is low-esteemed in her eyes. 



She hath no scorn of common things, 
And, though she seem of other birth, 
Round us her heart entwines and clings, 
And patiently she folds her wings 
To tread the humble paths of earth. 

VI 

Blessing she is : God made her so, 
And deeds of week-day holiness 
Fall from her noiseless as the snow, 
Nor hath she ever chanced to know 
That aught were easier than to bless. 

VII 

She is most fair, and thereunto 
Her life doth rightly harmonize ; 
Feeling or thought that was not true 
Ne'er made less beautiful the blue 
Unclouded heaven of her eyes. 






VIII 

She is a woman : one in whom 
The spring-time of her childish years 
Hath never lost its fresh perfume, 
Though knowing well that life hath room 
For many blights and many tears. 




IX 

I love her with a love as still 
As a broad river's peaceful might, 
Which, by high tower and lowly mill, 
Goes wandering at its own will, 
And yet doth ever flow aright. 



And on its full, deep breast serene, 
Like quiet isles my duties lie ; 
It flows around them and between, 
And makes them fresh and fair and green, 
Sweet homes wherein to live and die. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



[12] 







THE " OLD, OLD SONG " 




HEN all the world is young, 
lad, 
And all the trees are green ; 
And every goose a swan, lad, 
And every lass a queen ; 
Then hey for boot and horse, lad, 

And round the world away ; 
Young blood must have its course, lad, 
And every dog his day. 

When all the world is old, lad, 

And all the trees are brown ; 
And all the sport is stale, lad, 

And all the wheels run down ; 
Creep home, and take your place there, 

The spent and maim'd among ; 
God grant you find one face there 

You loved when all was young. 

— Charles King sky. 




[13] 






A MAIDEN 

HE is not fair to outward view 
As many maidens be ; 
Her loveliness I never knew 

Until she smiled on me. 
then I saw her eye was 
bright, 
A well of love, a spring of light. 

But now her looks are coy and cold, 

To mine they ne'er reply, 
And yet I cease not to behold 

The love-light in her eye : 
Her very frowns are fairer far 
Than smiles of other maidens are. 

— Hartley Coleridge. 




[H] 






TRUE LOVE 

THINK true love is never 

blind, 

But rather brings an added 

light ; 

An inner vision quick to find 

The beauties hid from common sight. 

No soul can ever clearly see 
Another's highest, noblest part ; 

Save through the sweet philosophy 
And loving wisdom of the heart. 

— Phoebe Cary. 





[15] 







^^™ 





A DITTY 

Y true-love hath my heart, and 
I have his, 
By just exchange one for an- 
other given : 
I hold his dear, and mine he 
cannot miss, 
There never was a better bargain driven : 
My true-love hath my heart, and I 
have his. 

His heart in me keeps him and me in one, 
My heart in him his thoughts and senses 

guides : 
He loves my heart, for once it was his 

own, 
I cherish his because in me it bides : 
My true-love hath my heart, and I 
have his. 

— Philip Sidney. 





[16] 






BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE EN- 
DEARING YOUNG CHARMS 

JELIEVE me, if all those en- 
dearing young charms, 
Which I gaze on so fondly 

to-day, 
Were to change by to-morrow, 
and fleet in my arms, 
Like fairy gifts fading away, 
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this mo- 
ment thou art, 
Let thy loveliness fade as it will, 
And around the dear ruin each wish of 
my heart 
Would entwine itself verdantly still. 

It is not while beauty and youth are 
thine own, 
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, 
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be 
known, 
To which time will but make thee 
more dear. 





[17] 





No, the heart that has truly loved never 
forgets, 

But as truly loves on to the close, 
As the sunflower turns on her god, when 
he sets, 
The same look which she turned when 
he rose. 

— Thomas Moore. 





[18] 






SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE 

'HEN our two souls stand up 
erect and strong, 
Face to face, silent, drawing 

nigh and nigher, 
Until the lengthening wings 
break into fire 
At either curved point, — what bitter 

wrong 
Can the earth do to us, that we should 
not long 
Be here contented? Think. In mount- 
ing higher, 
The angels would press on us and 
aspire 
To drop some golden orb of perfect song 
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us 
stay 
Rather on earth, Beloved, — where the 
unfit 
Contrarious moods of men recoil away 
And isolate pure spirits, and permit 

A place to stand and love in for a day, 
With darkness and the death-hour round- 
ing it. 





[19] 




. 





How do I love thee ? Let me count the 
ways. 
I love thee to the depth and breadth 

and height 
My soul can reach, when feeling out 
of sight 
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. 
I love thee to the level of every day's 
Most quiet need, by sun and candle- 
light. 
I love thee freely, as men strive for 
Right ; 
I love thee purely, as they turn from 

Praise. 
I love thee with the passion put to use 
In my old griefs, and with my child- 
hood's faith. 
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
With my lost saints, — I love thee with 
the breath, 
Smiles, tears, of all my life ! — and, if God 
choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 




[20] 





A SPRIG OF HEATHER 




UST a sprig of Scottish heather, 
in a letter where the tears, 
Which have blotted words to- 
gether, have been dried 
these many years. 
Loving lines, yet sadly cheerful, — how 

" 'twas lonesome here to-day," 
Then a pause, a little tearful, " Dear, you 
are so far away ! " 



\ 



Every sentence has its token of a love 

that could not fail 
Throbbing with a faith unspoken, though 

the ink is growing pale ; 
Faded are the lines dim-lettered like sad 

ghosts upon the page ; 
Ah, that poor love should be fettered with 

the rusty iron of age ! 



Then that line, " I picked the heather 
from that spot, dear, you will know, 

Where we walked and talked together, — 
oh, it seems so long ago ! " 




[21] 





And at last, " Love, how much better it 
will be when, by-and-by, 

We'll not need to write a letter to each 
other, you and I ! " 





God! with what another meaning that 

one line has long been true, 
With Death's silence intervening since I 

last have heard from you, 
When you dropped Life's weary fetters, 

when you went so far away, — 
Thought you of unwritten letters I was 

missing from that day ? 

If you know how I have needed some new 

token through the years 
You have slept away unheeded, it must 

move your soul to tears. 
If you still know how I love you, how 

I've missed you day by day, 
Since the heather grew above you, you 

could never stay away. 

Take all treasures, Time, I cherish, Fame 
and Hope and Life at last, 

Flitting things which needs must perish, 
— spare this memory of the Past. 

[22] 



.JWa 





Lying with a sprig of heather, in a letter 

where the tears, 
Which have blotted words together, have 

been dried these many years. 

— Marion Manville. 





[23] 





THE BROOK-SIDE 

WANDER'D by the brook- 
side, 

I wander'd by the mill, — 

I could not hear the brook 
flow, 

The noisy wheel was still ; 
There was no burr of grasshopper, 
Nor chirp of any bird, 
But the beating of my own heart 
Was all the sound I heard. 



I sat beneath the elm-tree, 

I watch'd the long, long shade, 

And as it grew still longer, 

I did not feel afraid ; 

For I listened for a footfall, 

I listened for a word, — 

But the beating of my own heart 

Was all the sound I heard. 





[24] 



•4gjl|U- 



wt 





He came not, — no, he came not, — 
The night came on alone, — 
The little stars sat, one by one, 
Each on his golden throne ; 
The evening air pass'd by my cheek, 
The leaves above were stirr'd, — 
But the beating of my own heart 
Was all the sound I heard. 




Fast silent tears were flowing, 
When something stood behind, — 
A hand was on my shoulder, 
I knew its touch was kind : 
It drew me nearer — nearer, — 
We did not speak one word, 
For the beating of our own hearts 
Was all the sound I heard. 

— Richard Monckton Milnes 
(Lord Houghton), 




[25] 





DOLCINO TO MARGARET 

HE world goes up and the 

world goes down, 
And the sunshine follows the 

rain; 
And yesterday's sneer and 
yesterday's frown 
Can never come over again, 

Sweet wife ; 
No, never come over again. 

For woman is warm though man be cold, 

And the night will hallow the day ; 
Till the heart which at even was weary 
and old 
Can rise in the morning gay, 

Sweet wife ; 
To its work in the morning gay. 

— Charles Kingsley. 





[26] 




MB 






SONNET 

IRST time he kissed me, he 
but only kissed 
The fingers of this hand where- 
with I write, 
And ever since it grew more 
clean and white. . . . 
Slow to world-greetings . . . quick with 

its " Oh, list ! " 
When the angels speak. A ring of 

amethyst 
I could not wear here plainer to my sight, 
Than that first kiss. The second passed 

in height 
The first, and sought the forehead, and 

half missed, 
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed ! 
That was the chrism of love, which love's 

own crown, 
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. 
The third, upon my lips, was folded down 
In perfect purple state ! since when, in- 
deed, 
I have been proud, and said, " My love, 
my own." 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

[27] 








THY VOICE IS NEAR ME 



HY 



voice is near me in my 
dreams ; 
In accents sweet and low, 
Telling of happiness and love 
In days long, long ago. 



Word after word I think I hear, 

Yet strange it seems to me 
That, though I listen to thy voice, 

Thy face I never see. 

From night to night my weary heart 
Lives on the treasured past, 

And ev'ry day I fondly say, 
He'll come to me at last. 

Yet still I weep, and watch, and pray, 

As time rolls slowly on ; 
And yet I have no hope but thee, 

Thou first, thou dearest one. 

— M. Lindsay. 





■ in 






LOVE 

ETTER to have the love of one 
Than smiles like morning 

dew; 
Better to have a living seed 
Than flowers of every hue. 



Better to feel a love within 
Than be lovely to the sight ; 
Better a homely tenderness 
Than beauty's wild delight. 

Better to love than be beloved, 
Though lonely all the day ; 
Better the fountain in the heart 
Than the fountain by the way. 

Better the thanks of one dear heart 
Than a nation's voice of praise ; 
Better the twilight ere the dawn 
Than yesterday's mid-blaze. 

— Leigh Hunt 





[29] 







GOD KEEP YOU SAFE 

OD keep you safe, my love, 
All through the night ; 
Rest close in His encircled 
arms 
Until the light. 
My heart is with you as I kneel to pray, 
Good-night ! God keep you in His care 
alway. 

Thick shadows creep like silent ghosts 

About my head ; 
I lose myself in tender dreams, 

While overhead 
The moon comes stealing through the 
window bars, 

A silver sickle gleaming 'mid the stars. 

For I, though I am far away, 

Feel safe and strong 
To trust you thus, dear love — and yet — 

The night is long. 
I say with sobbing breath the fond, old 
prayer : 
Good-night, sweet dreams, God keep 
you everywhere. 

— Mary Higman. 

[3o] 




MM 



mfimi 





FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT 

S there, for honest poverty, 
That hangs his head, and 
a' that? 
The coward-slave, we pass 
him by, 
We dare be poor, for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Our toils obscure, an* a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
The man's the gowd for a' that. 




What though on hamely fare we dine 

Wear hoddin gray, and a' that? 
Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their 
wine, 

A man's a man for a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that. 




Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a* that ; 

Though hundreds worship at his word, 
He's but a coof for a' that ; 

[3i] 




_ 




For a* that, and a' that, 

His ribbon, star, and a' that, 

The man of independent mind, 
He looks an' laughs at a 7 that. 

A king can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man's aboon his might, 

Quid faith he mauna fa* that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Their dignities, an' a* that, 
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth 

Are higher ranks than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, 

As come it will for a' that, 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 

Should bear the gree, and a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that, 
When man to man, the world o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that. 

—Robert Burns, 





[32] 




■riHI 




A SONNET 

HY love shall chant its own 
beatitudes 
After its own self- working. A 

child's kiss 
Set on the sighing lips shall 
make thee glad, 
A poor man served by thee shall make 

thee rich, 
A sick man helped by thee shall make 

thee strong ; 
Thou shalt be served thyself by every 

sense 
Of service which thou renderest. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 





[33] 




... — 




EPILOGUE 

To Asolando 

T the midnight in the silence 
of the sleep-time, 
When you set your fancies 
free, 
Will they pass to where — by 
death, fools think, im- 
prison^ — 
Low he lies who once so loved you, whom 
you loved so, 

—Pity me? 





Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mis- 
taken ! 
What had I on earth to do 
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the 

unmanly ? 
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I 
drivel 

— Being — who ? 



/* 




[34] 





One who never turn'd his back but 
march'd breast forward, 
Never doubted clouds would break, 
Never dream'd, though right were worsted, 

wrong would triumph, 
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight 
better, 

Sleep to wake. 




\ 



No, at noonday in the bustle of man's 
work-time 
Greet the unseen with a cheer ! 
Bid him forward, breast and back as 

either should be, 
" Strive and thrive ! " cry " Speed, — fight 
on, fare ever 

There as here ! " 

— Robert Browning. 




[35] 




, 





TO CELIA 

jRINK to me only with thine 
eyes, 
And I will pledge with mine ; 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup 
And I'll not look for wine. 
The thirst that from the soul doth rise 

Doth ask a drink divine ; 
But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 
I would not change for thine. 

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 

Not so much honoring thee 
As giving it a hope that there 

It could not wither'd be ; 
But thou thereon didst only breathe 

And sent'st it back to me ; 
Since when it grows, and smells, I 
swear, 

Not of itself but thee ! 

— Ben Jonson. 





[36] 




itnr 




THOU LING'RING STAR 

'HOU ling'ring star, with less'- 
ning ray, 
That lov'st to greet the early 
morn, 
Again thou usherest in the 
day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
O Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? 
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his 
breast? 





That sacred hour can I forget ? 

Can I forget that hallowed grove, 
Where by the winding Ayr we met, 

To live one day of parting love ! 
Eternity cannot efface 

Those records dear of transports past ; 
Thine image at our last embrace — 

Ah, little thought we 'twas our last ! 




[37] 





Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning 
green ; 
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 

Twined am'rous round the raptured 
scene ; 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang love on ev'ry spray — 
Till soon, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaimed the speed of winged day. 

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, 

And fondly broods with miser care ; 
Time but th' impression stronger makes, 

As streams their channels deeper wear. 
My Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? 
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his 
breast ? 

— Robert Burns. 





[38] 







TO ANTHEA WHO MAY COMMAND 
HIM ANYTHING 

ID me to live, and I will live 
Thy Protestant to be : 
Or bid me love, and I will 
give 
A loving heart to thee. 

A heart as soft, a heart as kind, 

A heart as sound and free 
As in the whole world thou canst find, 

That heart I'll give to thee. 

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, 

To honor thy decree : 
Or bid it languish quite away, 

And't shall do so for thee. 

Bid me to weep, and I will weep 

While I have eyes to see : 
And having none, yet I will keep 

A heart to weep for thee. 

Bid me despair, and I'll despair, 

Under that cypress tree : 
Or bid me die, and I will dare 

E'en Death, to die for thee. 

[39] 






Thou art my life, my love, my heart, 

The very eyes of me, 
And hast command of every part, 

To live and die for thee. 

— Robert Herrick. 




[40] 





■HMH 





YOU'LL LOVE ME— WONT YOU? 

you remember when you 
heard 
My lips breathe love's first 
faltering word ? 
You do, sweet — don't you ? 
When, having wandered all 
the day, 
Linked arm in arm I dared to say, 
You'll love me — won't you ? 

And when you blushed, and could not 

speak, 
I fondly kissed your glowing cheek ; 

Did that affront you ? 
Oh, surely not ; your eye exprest 
No wrath, but said, perhaps in jest, 

You'll love me — won't you ? 

I'm sure my eyes replied, " I will ; " 
And you believe that promise still ; 

You do, sweet — don't you ? 
Yes, yes, when age has made our eyes 
Unfit for questions or replies, 

You'll love me — won't you? 

— Thomas Haynes Bayly. 





[4i] 



"tiiir^J" 




— — — ^ 




WHERE LOVE IS 

GOOD wife rose from her bed 

one morn, 
And thought, with a nervous 

dread, 
Of the piles of clothes to be 
washed, and more 
Than a dozen mouths to be fed. 
There's the meals to get for the men in 
the field ; 
And the children to fix away 
To school ; and the milk to be skimmed 
and churned : 
And all to be done this day. 




It had rained in the night, and all the 
wood 
Was wet as it could be ; 
There were puddings and pies to bake, 
besides 
A loaf of cake for tea. 




[42] 





And the day was hot, and her aching 
brow 

Throbbed wearily as she said : 
" If maidens but knew what good wives 
know, 
They would be in no haste to wed ! " 




* 



* 



* 



* 



* 



" Jennie, what do you think I told Ben 
Brown ? " 

Called the farmer from the well ; 
And a flush crept up to his bronzed brow, 

And his eyes half-bashfully fell. 
" It was this," he said, and, coming near, 

He smiled, and, stooping down, 
Kissed her cheek — " Twas this : That 
you were the best 

And the dearest wife in town ! " 

The farmer went back to the field, and 
the wife, 

In a smiling and absent way, 
Sang snatches of tender little songs 

She'd not sung for many a day. 




[43] 




B^ 





And the pain in her head was gone, and 
the clothes 
Were white as the foam of the sea ; 
Her bread was light, and her butter was 
sweet, 
And as golden as it could be. 




" Just think," the children all called in a 
breath — 
" Tom Wood has run off to sea ! 
He wouldn't, we know, if he only had 
had 
As happy a home as we." 
The night came down, and the good-wife 
smiled 
To herself, as she softly said : 
" Tis so sweet to labor for those we love, 
It's no wonder that maids will wed ! " 

— Thomas Burnett. 




[44] 






CRADLE SONG 

WEET and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 
Wind of the western sea ! 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, 
and blow, 
Blow him again to me : 
While my little one, while my pretty one, 
sleeps. 





Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 
Father will come to thee soon : 

Rest, rest, on mother's breast, 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Father will come to his babe in the nest, 

Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon : 

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, 
sleep. 

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 




[45] 





A SONG OF THE HEART 

F any little love of mine 
May make a life the sweeter, 
If any little care of mine 
May make a friend's the 
fleeter, 
If any lift of mine may ease 
The burden of another, 
God give me love and care and 

strength 
To help my toiling brother. 





[46] 






SYMPATHY 

HEN hide it not, the music of 
thy soul, 
Dear sympathy expressed with 

kindly voice, 
But let it like a shining river 
roll 

To deserts dry — to hearts that would re- 
joice. 
Oh, let the symphony of kindly words 
Sound for the poor, the friendless, and 

the weak, 
And He will bless you. He who struck 

the chords 
Will strike another when in turn you 
seek. 





[47] 




/ 




WESLEY'S RULE 

O all the good you can, 
By all the means you can, 
In all the ways you can, 
In all the places you can, 
At all the times you can, 
To all the people you can, 
As long as ever you can. 






[48] 





m 





THE QUIET ROOM 

'ND so I find it well to come 
For deeper rest to this still 

room ; 
For here the habit of the soul 
Feels less the outer world's 
control. 

And from the silence, multiplied 
By these still forms on every side, 
The world that time and sense has known 
Falls off and leaves us God alone. 

— John Greenleaf Whittiw. 




[49] 






CHEER AND JOY BE THINE 

ESIDE the home fire's cheer- 
ful glow 
May mirth and joy thy com- 
rades be, 
And even churlish winter 
show 
A smiling face to thee. 

May life no gloomy side reveal, 
But all this bright year through, 

Good fortune spin her shining wheel 
Eight merrily for you. 






[50] 





j$S 



THE CELESTIAL SURGEON 

F I have faltered more or less 
In my great task of happiness, 
If I have moved among my 

race 
And shown no glorious morn- 
ing face, 
If beams from happy human eyes 
Have moved me not, if morning skies, 
Books, and my food, and summer rain 
Knocked on my sullen heart in vain ; 
Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take 
And stab my spirit broad awake. 

— Robert Louis Stevenson. 





[so 






A KINDLY DEED 



KINDLY deed 

Is a little seed, 

That groweth all unseen ; 

And lo, when none 

Do look thereon, 

Anew it springeth green. 





[52] 





SONG 

HEN I am dead, my dearest, 
Sing no sad songs for me ; 
Plant thou no roses at my 
head, 
Nor shady cypress tree : 
Be the green grass above me 
With showers and dewdrops wet ; 
And if thou wilt, remember, 
And if thou wilt, forget. 

I shall not see the shadows, 

I shall not feel the rain ; 
I shall not hear the nightingale 

Sing on, as if in pain : 
And dreaming through the twilight 

That doth not rise nor set, 
Haply I may remember, 

And haply may forget. 

— Christina Georgina Rossetti. 





[53] 





A LOVING WORD 

AKE time to speak a loving 
word 
Where loving words are sel- 
dom heard ; 
And it will linger in the mind, 
And gather others of its kind, 



Till loving words will echo where 
Erstwhile the heart was poor and bare ; 
And somewhere on thy heavenward track 
Their music will come echoing back. 





[54] 







GOD BE WITH YOU 

MY heart's heart and you who 

are to me 
More than myself myself, God 

be with you, 
Keep you in strong obedience, 
leal and true 
To him whose noble service setteth free, 
Give you all good we see or can foresee, 
Make your joys many and your sorrows 

few, 
Bless you in what you bear and what 
you do. 
Yea, perfect you as He would have you be. 
So much for you; but what for me, 
dear friend? 
To love you without stint and all I can 
To-day, to-morrow, world without an 

end : 
To love you much, and yet to love you 

more, 
As Jordan at its flood sweeps either 
shore ; 
Since woman is the helpmeet made for 
man. 

— Christina Georgina Rossetti. 

[55] 



J& 






A WORD OF CHEER 




WOULD flood your path with 
sunshine, I would fence 
you from all ill, 
[ would crown you with all 
blessings if I could but 
have my will. 
Aye ! but human love may err, dear, and 

a power all wise is near. 
So I only pray, God bless you, and God 
keep you through the year. 




[56] 






STAY, STAY AT HOME 

TAY, stay at home, my heart, 
and rest ; 
Home-keeping hearts are hap- 
piest. 
For those that wander they 
know not where, 
Are full of trouble, and full of care ; 
To stay at home is best. 

Weary and homesick and distressed, 
They wander east, they wander west, 
And are baffled and beaten and blown 

about 
By the winds of the wilderness of 
doubt ; 
To stay at home is best. 

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest ; 
The bird is safest in its nest ; 

O'er all that flutter their wings and fly 
A hawk is hovering in the sky ; 
To stay at home is best. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 






_ 



REST 

EST is not quitting 
The busy career : 
Rest is the fitting 
Of self to its sphere. 



'Tis loving and serving 
The highest and best : 
'Tis onward, unswerving ! 
And that is true rest. 

— John Sullivan Dwight. 





[58] 






RABBI BEN EZRA 




ROW old along with me I 
The best is yet to be, 
The last of life, for which the 

first was made : 
Our times are in His hand 
Who saith 'A whole I plann'd, 
Youth shows but half; trust God : see all 
nor be afraid ! ' 



Not that, amassing flowers 

Youth sigh'd l Which rose make ours, 
Which lily leave and then as best recall ? ' 

Not that, admiring stars, 

It yearn'd ' Nor Jove, nor Mars ; 
Mine be some figured flame which blends, 
transcends them all ! ' 

Not for such hopes and fears 

Annulling youth's brief years, 
Do I remonstrate : folly wide the mark I 

Rather I prize the doubt 

Low kinds exist without, 
Finish'd and finite clods, untroubled by 
a spark. 




[59] 



j©ii 




mi 





Poor vaunt of life indeed, 

Were man but formed to feed 
On joy, to solely seek and find and feast : 

Such feasting ended, then 

As sure an end to men ; 
Irks care the crop-full bird ? Frets doubt 
the maw-cramm'd beast ? 

Rejoice we are allied 

To That which doth provide 
And not partake, effect and not receive ! 

A spark disturbs our clod ; 

Nearer we hold of God 
Who gives, than of His tribes that take, 
I must believe. 

Then, welcome each rebuff 
That turns earth's smoothness rough, 
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand 
but go ! 
Be our joys three-parts pain ! 
Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; 
Learn, nor account the pang ; dare, never 
grudge the throe ! 

For thence, — a paradox 
Which comforts while it mocks, — 
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail : 

[60] 





m 



■MH1H 



r^flUT 





What I aspired to be, 
And was not, comforts me : 
A brute I might have been, but would 
not sink i' the scale. 

What is he but a brute 
Whose flesh has soul to suit, 
Whose spirit works lest arms and legs 
want play ? 
To man, propose this test — 
Thy body at its best, 
How far can that project thy soul on its 
lone way ? 

Yet gifts should prove their use : 

I own the Past profuse 
Of power each side, perfection every turn : 

Eyes, ears took in their dole, 

Brain treasured up the whole : 
Should not the heart beat once * How 
good to live and learn ? ' 

Not once beat l Praise be Thine ! 

I see the whole design, 
I, who saw power, see now love perfect too : 

Perfect I call Thy plan : 

Thanks that I was a man ! 
Maker, remake, complete, — I trust what 
Thou shall do ! ' 

[61] 





__ ___ 




For pleasant is this flesh ; 
Our soul, in its rose-mesh 
Pull'd ever to the earth, still yearns for 
rest; 
Would we some prize might hold 
To match those manifold 
Possessions of the brute, — gain most, as 
we did best I 




Let us not always say 
' Spite of this flesh to-day 
I strove, made head, gain'd ground upon 
the whole I ' 
As the bird wings and sings, 
Let us cry ' All good things 
Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, 
than flesh helps soul ! ' 

Therefore I summon age 
To grant youth's heritage, 
Life's struggle having so far reach'd its 
term : 
Thence shall I pass, approved 
A man, for aye removed 
From the develop'd brute ; a god though 
in the germ. 




[62] 




mmm 




And I shall thereupon 
Take rest, ere I be gone 
Once more on my adventure brave and 
new : 
Fearless and unperplex'd, 
When I wage battle next, 
What weapons to select, what armour to 
indue. 




Youth ended, I shall try 
My gain or loss thereby ; 
Leave the fire ashes, what survives is 
gold : 
And I shall weigh the same, 
Give life its praise or blame : 
Young, all lay in dispute ; I shall know, 
being old. 




For note, when evening shuts, 
A certain moment cuts 
The deed off, calls the glory from the 
gray: 
A whisper from the west 
Shoots — ' Add this to the rest, 
Take it and try its worth : here dies 
another day/ 

[63] 




-^ 



_ 




So, still within this life, 
Though lifted o'er its strife, 
Let me discern, compare, pronounce at 
last, 
1 This rage was right i' the main, 
That acquiescence vain : 
The Future I may face now I have proved 
the Past/ 




For more is not reserved 

To man, with soul just nerved 
To act to-morrow what he learns to-day : 

Here, work enough to watch 

The Master work, and catch 
Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the 
tooPs true play. 



As it was better, youth 
Should strive, through acts uncouth, 
Toward making, than repose on aught 
found made : 
So, better, age, exempt 
From strife, should know, than tempt 
Further. Thou waitedest age : wait death 
nor be afraid I 




[64] 





uffi3 



Enough now, if the Right 
And Good and Infinite 
Be named here, as thou callest thy hand 
thine own, 
With knowledge absolute, 
Subject to no dispute 
From fools that crowded youth, nor let 
thee feel alone. 





Be there, for once and all, 
Sever'd great minds from small, 
Announced to each his station in the 
Past! 
Was I, the world arraign'd, 
Were they, my soul disdain'd, 
Right? Let age speak the truth and 
give us peace at last ! 

Now, who shall arbitrate ? 
Ten men love what I hate, 
Shun what I follow, slight what I re- 
ceive ; 
Ten, who in ears and eyes 
Match me : we all surmise, 
They this thing, and I that : whom shall 
my soul believe ? 



[6 5 ] 








Not on the vulgar mass 
CalPd l work/ must sentence pass, 
Things done, that took the eye and had 
the price 
O'er which, from level stand, 
The low world laid its hand, 
Found straightway to its mind, could 
value in a trice : 




But all, the world's coarse thumb 
And finger failed to plumb, 
So pass'd in making up the main ac- 
count ; 
All instincts immature, 
All purposes unsure, 
That weigh'd not as his work, yet swell'd 
the man's amount. 

Thoughts hardly to be pack'd 
Into a narrow act, 
Fancies that broke through language and 
escaped ; 
All I could never be, 
All, men ignored in me, 
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel 
the pitcher shaped. 




[66] 





Ay, note that Potter's wheel, 
That metaphor ! and feel 
Why time spins fast, why passive lies our 
clay,— 
Thou, to whom fools propound, 
When the wine makes its round, 
4 Since life fleets, all is change ; the Past 
gone, seize to-day I ' 




Fool I All that is, at all, 
Lasts ever, past recall ; 
Earth changes, but thy soul and God 
stand sure : 
What enter'd into thee, 
That was, is, and shall be : 
Time's wheel runs back or stops : Potter 
and clay endure. 

He fix'd thee mid this dance 
Of plastic circumstance, 
This Present, thou, forsooth, wouldst fain 
arrest : 
Machinery just meant 
To give thy soul its bent, 
Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently 
impress'd. 




[67] 





What though the earlier grooves 
Which ran the laughing loves 
Around thy base, no longer pause and 
press ? 
What though, about thy rim, 
Scull-things in order grim 
Grow out, in graver mood, obey the 
sterner stress ? 




Look not thou down but up ! 
To uses of a cup, 
The festal board, lamp's flash and trum- 
pet's peal, 
The new wine's foaming flow, 
The Master's lips a-glow ! 
Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what 
need'st thou with earth's wheel ? 

But I need, now as then, 
Thee, God, who mouldest men ; 
And since, not even while the whirl was 
worst, 
Did I, — to the wheel of life 
With shapes and colors rife, 
Bound dizzily — mistake my end, to slake 
Thy thirst ; 




[68] 




mam 




&= 



So, take and use Thy work : 
Amend what flaws may lurk, 
What strain o' the stuff, what warpings 
past the aim ! 
My times be in Thy hand ! 
Perfect the cup as plann'd I 
Let age approve of youth, and death 
complete the same ! 

— Robert Browning. 





[69] 




_~» 





BE TRUE 

jHOU must be true thyself, 
If thou the truth wouldst 
teach ; 
Thy soul must overflow, if 
thou 
Another's soul wouldst reach ! 
It needs the overflow of heart 
To give the lips full speech. 

Think truly, and thy thoughts 
Shall the world's famine feed ; 

Speak truly, and each word of thine 
Shall be a fruitful seed ; 

Live truly, and thy life shall be 
A great and noble creed. 

— Andrew Bonar. 





[70] 




MHMB 




A WORD OF LOVE 

ANY a heart is hungry, starv- 
ing, 
For a little word of love; 
Speak it then and as the sun- 
shine 
Gilds the lofty peaks above 



So the joy of those who hear it 

Sends its radiance down life's way, 

And the world is brighter, better 
For the loving words we say. 





[7i] 



flg 





A KIND WORD 

OW little it costs, if we give it 
a thought, 
To make happy some heart 

each day. 
Just one kind word, or a 
tender smile, 
As we go on our daily way. 

" Perchance a look will suffice to clear 
The cloud from a neighbor's face, 
And the press of a hand in sympathy 
A sorrowful tear efface. 




" It costs so little I wonder why 
We give so little thought ? 
A smile, kind words, a glance, a touch, 
What magic with them is wrought ! " 





H 



mmmmm m 




DO YOUR DUTY 

OLDED hands are ever weary, 
Selfish hearts are never 

gay; 

Life for thee hath many duties, 
Active be, then, while you 
may. 
Be strong to hope, heart ! 

Though day is bright, 
The stars can only shine 

In the dark night, 
Be strong, O heart of mine ; 
Look towards the light. 





[73] 




- - - • 



- 




NO FAILURE OR DEFEAT 

HEN take this honey for the 

bitterest cup, 
There is no failure save in 

giving up. 
No real fall so long as one 
still tries, 
For seeming setbacks make the strong 

man wise. 
There's no defeat in truth, save from 

within, 
Unless you're beaten there, you're bound 
to win. 





[74] 




iMHUMM 



■ 




DAFFODILS 

WANDERED lonely as a 
cloud 
That floats on high o'er 
vales and hills, 
When all at once I saw a 
crowd, — 
A host of golden daffodils 
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 





Continuous as the stars that shine 
And twinkle on the Milky Way, 

They stretched in never-ending line 
Along the margin of a bay : 

Ten thousand saw I, at a glance, 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee ; 

A poet could not but be gay 
In such a jocund company ; 

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought. 




[75] 





For oft, when on my couch I lie, 
In vacant or in pensive mood, 

They flash upon that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude ; 

And then my heart with pleasure fills 

And dances with the daffodils. 

— William Wordsworth 





[76] 




^MM 



mmm ^ gmmm 



MMMHBMM 





MAXWELTON BRAES 

AXWELTON braes are bonnie 
Where early fa's the dew, 
And it's there that Annie 
Laurie 
Gie'd me her promise true, — 
Gie'd me her promise true, 
Which ne'er forgot will be ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee. 

Her brow is like the snaw-drift ; 

Her throat is like the swan ; 
Her face it is the fairest 

That e'er the sun shone on, — 
That e'er the sun shone on, — 

And dark blue is her ee ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 

I'd lay me doune and dee. 





Like dew on the gowan lying 
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet ; 

And like winds in summer sighing 
Her voice is low and sweet — 



[77] 




— v n 





Her voice is low and sweet — 
And she's a' the world to me ; 

And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee. 

— Douglas. 





['78] 



-j£§3 







MM 



ItetfMMM 



MM 





SALLY IN OUR ALLEY 

F all the girls that are so smart 
There's none like pretty 
Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 
And she lives in our alley. 
There is no lady in the land 
Is half so sweet as Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 
And she lives in our alley. 

Her father he makes cabbage-nets 

And through the streets does cry 
'em ; 
Her mother she sells laces long 

To such as please to buy 'em ; 
But sure such folks could ne'er beget 

So sweet a girl as Sally ! 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 




When she is by, I leave my work, 

I love her so sincerely ; 
My master comes like any Turk, 

And bangs me most severely — 




[79] 





But let him bang his bellyful, 

I'll bear it all for Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

Of all the days that's in the week 

I dearly love but one day — 
And that's the day that comes be- 
twixt 

A Saturday and Monday ; 
For then I'm drest all in my best 

To walk abroad with Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

My master carries me to church, 

And often I am blamed 
Because I leave him in the lurch 

As soon as text is named ; 
I leave the church in sermon-time 

And slink away to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

When Christmas comes about again 
O then I shall have money ; 

I'll hoard it up, and box it all, 
I'll give it to my honey : 

[80] 




i^^Mfln 



wto 




I would it were ten thousand pound, 

I'd give it all to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

My master and the neighbors all 

Make game of me and Sally, 
And, but for her, I'd better be 

A slave and row a galley ; 
But when my seven long years are out 

O then I'll marry Sally, — 
O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed. 

But not in our alley ! 

— H. Carey. 





[81 ] 




•^ 



Mi 





RUTH 

HE stood breast-high amid the 

corn, 
Clasped by the golden light 

of morn, 
Like the sweetheart of the 
sun, 
Who many a glowing kiss had won. 

On her cheek an autumn flush 
Deeply ripened ; — such a blush 
In the midst of brown was born, 
Like red poppies grown with corn. 

Round her eyes her tresses fell, — 
Which were blackest none could tell ; 
But long lashes veiled a light 
That had else been all too bright. 

And her hat, with shady brim, 
Made her tressy forehead dim ; — 
Thus she stood amid the stooks, 
Praising God with sweetest looks. 

Sure, I said, Heaven did not mean 
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean ; 
Lay thy sheaf adown and come, 
Share my harvest and my home. 

— Thomas Hood. 

[82] 





■^^AB 



mm 



MM 






THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 
AT CORUNNA 

'OT a drum was heard, not a 
funeral note, 
As his corpse to the rampart 
we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his 
farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we 
buried. 

We buried him darkly at the dead of 
night, 

The sods with our bayonets turning ; 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light 

And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound 
him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 
And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 

But we steadfastly gazed on the face that 
was dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

[8 3 ] 





■» 



■MM^aM 





We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow 
bed 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread 
o'er his head, 
And we far away on the billow 1 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's 
gone 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — 

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep 
on 
In the grave where a Britain has laid 
him. 

But half of our heavy task was done 
When the clock struck the hour for re- 
tiring : 
And we heard the distant and random 
gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
From the field of his fame fresh and 
gory; 
We carved not a line, and we raised not a 
stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory. 

—G. Wolfe. 

[84] 





i^^MH 






V 




BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND 

;LOW, blow, thou winter wind, 
Thou art not so unkind 
As man's ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen 
Because thou art not seen, 
Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh ho ! sing heigh ho ! unto the green 

holly : 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving 
mere folly : 

Then, heigh ho ! the holly ! 
This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
Thou dost not bite so nigh 
As benefits forgot : 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 
As friend remember'd not. 
Heigh ho ! sing heigh ho ! unto the green 

holly : 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving 
mere folly : 

Then, heigh ho ! the holly ! 
This life is most jolly. 

— William Shakespeare. 

[85] 








mm* 



m 




MUSIC 

USIC, when soft voices die, 
Vibrates in the memory — 
Odors, when sweet violets 

sicken, 
Live within the sense they 

quicken. 



Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, 
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed ; 
And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone, 
Love itself shall slumber on. 

— Percy Bysshe Shelley. 





[86] 






MEMORY 

HEN to the sessions of sweet 
silent thought 
I summon up remembrance of 

things past, 
I sigh the lack of many a 
thing I sought, 
And with old woes new wail my dear 
time's waste ; 

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 

For precious friends hid in death's date- 
less night, 

And weep afresh love's long-since-can- 
cell'd woe, 

And moan the expense of many a vanish'd 
sight. 

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
Which I new pay as if not paid before : 

— But if the while I think on thee, dear 

Friend, 
All losses are restored, and sorrows end. 

— William Shakespeare. 

[87] 





M 





BABY 

HERE did you come from, 
baby dear ? 
Out of the everywhere into 
here. 

Where did you get those eyes 
of blue? 
Out of the sky as I came through. 

What makes the light in them sparkle 

and spin ? 
Some of the starry twinkles left in. 

Where did you get that little tear ? 
I found it waiting when I got here. 

What makes your forehead so smooth and 

high? 
A soft hand stroked it as I went by. 

What makes your cheek like a warm 

white rose ? 
I saw something better than any one 

knows. 

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? 
Three angels gave me at once a kiss. 

[88] 





bbmm 



■M* 




Where did you get this pearly ear ? 
God spoke, and it came out to hear. 

Where did you get those arms and hands ? 
Love made itself into bonds and bands. 

Feet, whence did you come, you darling 

things ? 
From the same box as the cherubs' wings. 

How did they all just come to be you? 
God thought about me, and so I grew. 

But how did you come to us, you dear ? 
God thought about you, and so I am here. 

— George MacDonald. 





[89] 




«i M. 




ABOU BEN ADHEM 

BOU BEN ADHEM (may his 
tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a deep 

dream of peace, 
And saw, within the moon- 
light in his room, 
Making it rich, and like the lily in bloom, 
An angel writing in a book of gold ; 
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem 

bold, 

And to the presence in the room he said, 
"What writest thou ? " — The vision raised 

its head, 
And with a look made of all sweet ac- 
cord, 
Answered, " The names of those who love 

the Lord." 
"And is mine one?" said Abou ; "Nay, 

not so," 
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more 

low, 
But cheerily still ; and said, " I pray thee 

then, 
Write me as one that loves his fellow- 




men. 



jt 




[90] 



-^5B 




mm 





The angel wrote and vanished. The next 

night 
It came again with a great wakening 

light, 
And showed the names whom love of 

God had blessed, 
And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the 

rest. 

— Leigh Hunt. 





[9i] 




m m* 





PAST AND PRESENT 

REMEMBER, I remember 
The house where I was born, 
The little window where the 

sun 
Came peeping in at morn ; 
He never came a wink too 
soon 
Nor brought too long a day ; 
But now, I often wish the night 
Had borne my breath away. 

I remember, I remember 

The roses, red and white, 

The violets, and the lily-cups — 

Those flowers made of light ! 

The lilacs where the robin built, 

And where my brother set 

The laburnum on his birthday, — 

The tree is living yet I 




[92] 






I remember, I remember 

Where I was used to swing, 

And thought the air must rush as fresh 

To swallows on the wing ; 

My spirit flew in feathers then 

That is so heavy now, 

And summer pools could hardly cool 

The fever on my brow. 




I remember, I remember 

The fir trees dark and high ; 

I used to think their slender tops 

Were close against the sky : 

It was a childish ignorance, 

But now 'tis little joy 

To know I'm farther off from Heaven 

Than when I was a boy. 

— Thomas Hood, 




[93] 




— 



^ 





SOLITUDE 

APPY the man, whose wish 

and care 
A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native 
air 
In his own ground. 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with 

bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire ; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find 
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away 
In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day, 

Sound sleep by night ; study and ease 
Together mixt, sweet recreation, 
And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation. 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown ; 
Thus unlamented let me die ; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
Tell where I lie. 

— Alexander Pope. 

[94] 





m 





A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG 

Written on the River St, Lawrence 

Et remigem cantus hortatur. — Quintilian. 

'AINTLY as tolls the evening 
chime, 
Our voices keep tune and our 

oars keep time. 
Soon as the woods on shore 
look dim, 

We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. 
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's 
past ! 





Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? 
There is not a breath the blue wave to 

curl ! 
But when the wind blows off the shore, 
Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar, 
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's 

past 1 




Utawas* tide ! this trembling moon 
Shall see us float over thy surges soon. 

[95] 




— 





Saint of this green Isle ! hear our prayers, 
Oh ! grant us cool heavens and favoring 

airs. 
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's 

past! 

— Thomas Moore. 





[96] 




■Mfe 





ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY 
CHURCHYARD 

1HE curfew tolls the knell of 
parting day ; 
The lowing herds wind 
slowly o'er the lea ; 
The ploughman homeward 
plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and 
to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on 
the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness 
holds, 
Save where the beetle wheels his droning 
flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant 
fold- 
Save that, from yonder ivy- mantled 
tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon 
complain 
Of such as, wandering near her secret 
bower, 
Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 

[97] 






m*m 



m 



— 



^*> 




Beneath those rugged elms, that yew- 
tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a 
mouldering heap, 
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet 
sleep. 




The breezy call of incense-breathing 
morn, 
The swallow, twittering from the straw- 
built shed, 
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing 
horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their 
lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth 
shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening 
care; 
Nor children run to lisp their sire's re- 
turn, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to 
share. 




[98] 




^MMM^MB 




Oft did the harvest to their sickle 
yield ; 
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has 
broke ; 
How jocund did they drive their team 
a-field ! 
How bowed the woods beneath their 
sturdy stroke ! 




Let not Ambition mock their useful 
toil, 
Their homely joy, and destiny obscure ; 
Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful 
smile, 
The short and simple annals of the 
poor. 



The boast of heraldry, the pomp of 
power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth 
e'er gave, 
Await, alike, the inevitable hour — 
The paths of glory lead but to the 
grave. 




[99] 




M^MM 



_ 



^^a^^— a 







Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the 
fault, 

If memory o'er their tomb no trophies 
raise, 
Where, through the long-drawn aisle and 
fretted vault, 
The pealing anthem swells the note of 
praise. 




Can storied urn, or animated bust, 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting 
breath ? 
Can Honor's voice provoke the silent 
dust, 
Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear 
of death ? 

Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid 
Some heart, once pregnant with celes- 
tial fire ; 
Hands that the rod of empire might have 
swayed, 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 




[ IO °] 




^■i 



■M 




But Knowledge to their eyes her ample 
page, 

Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er 
unroll ; 
Chill penury repressed their noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of the 
soul. 




Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, 
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean 
bear ; 
Full many a flower is born to blush un- 
seen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert 
air. 

Some village Hampden, that, with daunt- 
less breast, 
The little tyrant of his fields with- 
stood ; 
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may 
rest ; 
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his coun- 
try's blood. 




[IOI] 




_ 




The applause of listening senates to com- 
mand, 

The threats of pain and ruin to de- 
spise, 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
And read their history in a nation's 
eyes, 




Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed 
alone 
Their growing virtues, but their crimes 
confined ; — 
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a 
throne, 
And shut the gates, of mercy on man- 
kind ; 

The struggling pangs of conscious Truth 
to hide, 
To quench the blushes of ingenuous 
Shame, 
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and 
Pride 
With incense kindled at the Muse's 
flame. 




[ 102] 





Far from the madding crowd's ignoble 
strife, 

Their sober wishes never learned to 
stray : 
Along the cool, sequestered vale of life, 
They kept the noiseless tenor of their 
way. 




Yet, e'en these bones from insult to pro- 
tect, 
Some frail memorial, still erected 
nigh, 
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless 
sculpture decked, 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

Their name, their years, spelled by the 

unlettered Muse, 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 

And many a holy text around she 

strews, 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. 




[ 103] 




***m 



W* 




For who, to dumb forge tf illness a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious being, e'er re- 
signed — 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful 
day— 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look 
behind ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul 
relies ; 
Some pious drops the closing eye re- 
quires : 
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature 
cries, 
E'en in our ashes live their wonted 
fires. 




For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonored 
dead, 
Dost in these lines their artless tale 
relate, 
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy 
fate, 




[ 104] 







^m 



H^M 




Haply, some hoary-headed swain may 
say, 
" Oft have we seen him, at the peep of 
dawn, 
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews 
away, 
To meet the sun upon the upland 
lawn. 




"There, at the foot of yonder nodding 
beech, 
That wreathes its old, fantastic roots 
so high, 
His listless length at noontide would he 
stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles 

by. 

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in 
scorn, 
Muttering his wayward fancies, he 
would rove ; 
Now drooping, woful, wan, like one for- 
lorn, 
Or crazed with care, or crossed with 
hopeless love. 




[105 3 





" One morn I missed him on the accus- 
tomed hill, 
Along the heath, and near his favorite 
tree ; 
Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was 
he. 




" The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 
Slow through the churchway path we 
saw him borne ; 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) 
the lay 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged 
thorn." 

THE EPITAPH 

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 
A youth, to fortune and to fame un- 
known : 
Fair Science frowned upon his humble 
birth, 
And Melancholy marked him for her 
own. 




[106] 




m**m 



mmtm 



MtaM 




Large was his bounty, and his soul sin- 
cere : 

Heaven did a recompense as largely 
send : 
He gave to misery all he had — a tear — 
He gained from Heaven — 'twas all he 
wished — a friend. 




No farther seek his merits to disclose, 
Or draw his frailties from their dread 
abode 
(There they, alike, in trembling hope, re- 
pose), 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

— Thomas Gray. 




[ 107] 




—^ 



*— 





THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS 





'FT in the stilly night 
Ere slumber's chain 
bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me : 
The smiles, the tears 
Of boyhood's years, 
The words of love then spoken ; 
The eyes that shone, 
Now dimmed and gone, 
The cheerful hearts now broken ! 
Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

When I remember all 

The friends so link'd together 
I've seen around me fall 

Like leaves in wintry weather, 

I feel like one 

Who treads alone 
Some banquet-hall deserted, 

Whose lights are fled 

Whose garlands dead, 
And all but he departed ! 

[108] 





_**i 



m ^^mm 





Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 

Of other days around me. 

— Thomas Moore. 





[ IQ 9] 





COUNSEL TO GIRLS 




ATHER ye rosebuds while ye 
may, 
Old Time is still a-flying : 
And this same flower that 
smiles to-day, 
To-morrow will be dying. 



The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, 

The higher he's a-getting 
The sooner will his race be run, 

And nearer he's to setting. 

That age is best which is the first, 
When youth and blood are warmer ; 

But being spent, the worse, and worst 
Times, still succeed the former. 

Then be not coy, but use your time ; 

And while ye may, go marry : 
For having lost but once your prime, 

You may for ever tarry. 

— Robert Herrick. 




[no] 






O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM 

LITTLE town of Bethlehem, 
How still we see thee lie ! 
Above thy deep and dream- 
less sleep 
The silent stars go by ; 
Yet in thy dark streets 
shineth 
The everlasting Light ; 
The hopes and fears of all the years 
Are met in thee to-night. 





For Christ is born of Mary, 

And, gathered all above, 
While mortals sleep, the angels keep 

Their watch of wondering love. 
O morning stars, together 

Proclaim the holy birth ! 
And praises sing to God the King, 

And peace to men on earth. 




How silently, how silently, 
The wondrous gift is given ! 

So God imparts to human hearts 
The blessings of His heaven. 

[in] 






No ear may hear His coming, 

But in this world of sin, 
Where meek souls will receive Him still, 

The dear Christ enters in. 




O holy Child of Bethlehem ! 

Descend to us, we pray ; 
Cast out our sin, and enter in, 

Be born in us to-day. 
We hear the Christmas angels 

The great glad tidings tell ; 
Oh, come to us, abide with us, 

Our Lord Emmanuel. 

— Phillips Brooks. 




[112] 



—^4 





BB 




\ 



COMFORT 

PEAK low to me, my Saviour, 

low and sweet 
From out the hallelujahs, 

sweet and low, 
Lest I should fear and fall, 
and miss Thee so 
Who art not missed by any that entreat. 
Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet — 
And if no precious gums my hands be- 
stow 

Let my tears drop like amber, while I go 
In reach of Thy divinest voice complete 
In humanest affliction — thus, in sooth, 
To lose the sense of losing ! As a child, 
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for ever- 
more, 
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth ; 
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled, 
He sleeps the faster that he wept before. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 





["3] 





jggl^ 



THE BROOK 

COME from haunts of coot 
and hern, 
I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the 
fern, 
To bicker down the valley. 



By thirty hills I hurry down, 
Or slip between the ridges, 

By twenty thorps, a little town, 
And half a hundred bridges. 

Till last by Philips farm I flow 
To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on for ever. 

I chatter over stony ways, 
In little sharps and trebles, 

I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles. 

With many a curve my banks I fret 
By many a field and fallow, 

And many a fairy foreland set 
With willow-weed and mallow. 








I chatter, chatter, as I flow 
To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on for ever. 

I wind about, and in and out, 
With here a blossom sailing, 

And here and there a lusty trout, 
And here and there a grayling, 

And here and there a foamy flake 

Upon me, as I travel 
With many a silvery waterbreak 

Above the golden gravel, 

And draw them all along, and flow 
To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on for ever. 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I slide by hazel covers ; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 
Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 






I murmur under moon and stars 
In brambly wildernesses ; 

I linger by my shingly bars ; 
I loiter round my cresses ; 

And out again I curve and flow 
To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on for ever. 

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 





[116] 






RING OUT, WILD BELLS 

ING out, wild bells, to the wild 

sky, 

The flying cloud, the frosty 

light ; 
The year is dying in the 

night ; 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new ; 

Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; 

The year is going, let him go ; 
Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, 
For those that here we see no more ; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause, 
And ancient forms of party strife ; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite ; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 

Ring in the common love of good. 

[ii7] 






Ring out old shapes of foul disease, 
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; 
Ring out the thousand wars of old, 

Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land, 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 





[118] 





THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



HE 




damozel leaned 



blessed 
out 
From the gold bar of Heaven ; 
Her eyes were deeper than the 

depth 
Of waters stilled at even ; 
She had three lilies in her hand, 

And the stars in her hair were seven. 



\ 



Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, 
No wrought flowers did adorn, 

But a white rose of Mary's gift, 
For service meetly worn ; 

Her hair that lay along her back 
Was yellow like ripe corn. 



Herseemed she scarce had been a day 

One of God's choristers ; 
The wonder was not yet quite gone 

From that still look of hers ; 
Albeit, to them she left, her day 

Had counted as ten years. 




[H9] 




_ 




(To one, it is ten years of years. 

. . . Yet now, and in this place, 
Surely she leaned o'er me — her hair 

Fell all about my face . . . 
Nothing — the autumn-fall of leaves : 

The whole year sets apace.) 

It was the rampart of God's house 

That she was standing on ; 
By God built over the sheer depth 

The which is Space begun ; 
So high, that looking downward thence 

She scarce could see the sun. 

It lies in Heaven, across the flood 

Of ether, as a bridge. 
Beneath, the tides of day and night 

With flame and darkness ridge 
The void, as low as where this earth 

Spins like a fretful midge. 

Around her, lovers, newly met 
'Mid deathless love's acclaims, 

Spoke evermore among themselves 
Their heart-remembered names ; 

And the souls mounting up to God 
Went by her like thin flames. 





[ 120] 




■iM** 






And still she bowed herself and stooped 

Out of the circling charm ; 
Until her bosom must have made 

The bar she leaned on warm, 
And the lilies lay as if asleep 

Along her bended arm. 

From the fixed place of Heaven she saw 
Time like a pulse shake fierce 

Through all the worlds. Her gaze still 
strove 
Within the gulf to pierce 

Its path ; and now she spoke as when 
The stars sang in their spheres. 

The sun was gone now ; the curled moon 

Was like a little feather 
Fluttering far down the gulf; and now 

She spoke through the still weather. 
Her voice was like the voice the stars 

Had when they sang together. 

(Ah sweet ! even now, in that bird's song, 

Strove not her accents there, 
Fain to be hearkened ? when those bells 

Possessed the mid-day air, 
Strove not her steps to reach my side 

Down all the echoing stair ?) 

[121] 






m 



■■ 




on 




J^i. 



" I wish that he were come to me, 
For he will come," she said. 

" Have I not prayed in Heaven ? 
earth, 
Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd ? 

Are not two prayers a perfect strength ? 
And shall I feel afraid ? 



" When round his head the aureole clings, 

And he is clothed in white, 
I'll take his hand and go with him 

To the deep wells of light ; 
As unto a stream we will step down, 

And bathe there in God's sight. 

" We two will stand beside that shrine, 

Occult, withheld, untrod, 
Whose lamps are stirred continually 

With prayer sent up to God ; 
And see our old prayers, granted, melt 

Each like a little cloud. 

" We two will lie i' the shadow of 

That living mystic tree 
Within whose secret growth the Dove 

Is sometimes felt to be, 
While every leaf that His plumes touch 

Saith His Name audibly. 



[ 122] 







ff 




" And I myself will teach to him, 

I myself, lying so, 
The songs I sing here ; which his voice 

Shall pause in, hushed and slow, 
And find some knowledge at each pause, 

Or some new thing to know." 

(Alas ! we two, we two, thou say'st ! 

Yea, one wast thou with me 
That once of old. But shall God lift 

To endless unity 
The soul whose likeness with thy soul 

Was but its love for thee ?) 

" We two," she said, " will seek the grove 

Where the lady Mary is, 
With her five handmaidens, whose names 

Are five sweet symphonies, 
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, 

Margaret and Rosalys. 

" Circlewise sit they, with bound locks 

And foreheads garlanded ; 
Into the fine cloth white like flame 

Weaving the golden thread, 
To fashion the birth-robes for them 

Who are just born, being dead. 

[ I2 3] 



j®& 






JB& 



" He shall fear, haply, and be dumb, 

Then will I lay my cheek 
To His, and tell about our love, 

Not once abashed or weak : 
And the dear Mother will approve 

My pride, and let me speak. 

" Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, 
To Him round whom all souls 

Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads 
Bowed with their aureoles : 

And angels meeting us shall sing 
To their citherns and citoles. 





" There will I ask of Christ the Lord 
Thus much for him and me : — 

Only to live as once on earth 
With Love, — only to be, 

As then awhile, for ever now 
Together, I and he." 

She gazed and listened and then said, 
Less sad of speech than mild, — 

" All this is when he comes." She ceased. 
The light thrilled towards her, filFd 

With angels in strong level flight. 
Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd. 

[ 124] 




m—mmmm 



■n 





(I saw her smile.) But soon their path 
Was vague in distant spheres : 

And then she cast her arms along 
The golden barriers, 

And laid her face between her hands 
And wept. (I heard her tears.) 

— Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 





[125] 




an 



Mum 





LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 

EAD, kindly light, amid the 
encircling gloom, 
Lead Thou me on : 
The night is dark, and I am 
far from home, 
Lead Thou me on : 
Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene; one step enough for 
me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that 
> Thou 

Should'st lead me on : 
I loved to choose and see my path ; but 
now, 

Lead Thou me on : 
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will ; remember not past 
years. 

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it 
still 

Will lead me on, 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, 
till 

The night is gone, 

[126] 





- 




And with the morn those angel faces 

smile, 
Which I have loved long since, and lost 

awhile. 

— John Henry Newman. 





[127] 




B*^ 





BREAK, BREAK, BREAK ' 



REAK, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O 
Sea! 
And I would that my tongue 
could utter 
The thoughts that arise in 
me. 



O well for the fisherman's boy, 

That he shouts with his sister at play I 
O well for the sailor lad, 

That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 

And the stately ships go on 
To their haven under the hill ! 

But for the touch of a vanish'd hand, 
And the sound of a voice that is still ! 

Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 




[128] 




■Min 






O LOVE, THAT WILT NOT 
LET ME GO 

LOVE, that wilt not let me go, 
I rest my weary soul in 
Thee : 
I give Thee back the life I 
owe, 

That in Thine ocean depths its flow 
May richer, fuller be. 

Light, that followest all my way, 

I yield my Sickling torch to Thee ; 
My heart restores its borrow'd ray, 
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day 
May brighter, fairer be. 

Joy, that seekest me thro' pain, 

I cannot close my heart to Thee ; 

1 trace the rainbow thro' the rain, 
And feel the promise is not vain, 

That morn shall tearless be. 

Cross, that liftest up my head, 

I dare not ask to fly from Thee ; 

1 lay in dust, life's glory dead, 

And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be. 

— George Matheson. 

[ I2 9 1 







FROM " PIPPA PASSES " 

HE year's at the spring, 
And day's at the morn ; 
Morning's at seven ; 

The hill-side's dew-pearl'd ; 
The lark's on the wing; 
The snail's on the thorn ; 
God's in His heaven — 
All's right with the world. 

— Robert Browning. 





[ 130] 




__ 



.^ — 






NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE 

EARER, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee ! 
E'en though it be a cross 

That raiseth me ; 
Still all my song would be, 
Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 



Though like the wanderer, 
The sun gone down, 

Darkness be over me, 
My rest a stone ; 

Yet in my dreams I'd be 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 

There let the way appear 
Steps unto Heaven ; 

All that Thou send'st to me 
In mercy given ; 

Angels to beckon me 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 




[i3i] 





Then with my waking thoughts 
Bright with Thy praise, 

Out of my stony griefs 
Bethel I'll raise ; 

So by my woes to be 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 




Or if on joyful wing 

Cleaving the sky, 
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, 

Upwards I fly, 
Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to Thee ! 

— Sarah Flower Adams. 




[132] 




■■■tfBfl 



m 



Mfett 



fa-^^M 




THE SLEEP 

41 He giveth His beloved sleep."— Psalm oxxvii. 2. 

F all the thoughts of God that 
are 
Born inward unto souls afar, 
Along the Psalmist's music 

deep, 
Now tell me if that any is, 
For gift or grace, surpassing this — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep " ? 





What would we give to our beloved ? — 
The hero's heart, to be unmoved, 
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, 
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, 
The monarch's crown, to light the 
brows. — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 




What do we give to our beloved ? — 
A little faith, all undisproved, 
A little dust, to overweep, 
And bitter memories, to make 
The whole earth blasted for our sake. 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

[ i33 ] 




* 



■MM 




" Sleep soft, beloved ! " we sometimes say, 

But have no tune to charm away 

Sad dreams that through the eyelids 

creep : 

But never doleful dream again 
Shall break the happy slumber, when 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 
men, with wailing in your voices ! 
O delved gold, the wailers heap ! 

strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God makes a silence through you all, 

And "giveth His beloved, sleep." 

His dews drop mutely on the hill, 
His cloud above it saileth still, 
Though on its slope men sow and reap. 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

Yea, men may wonder while they scan 
A living, thinking, feeling man, 
Confirmed, in such a rest to keep ; 
But angels say — and through the word 

1 think their happy smile is heard — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

[134] 










For me, my heart that erst did go 

Most like a tired child at a show, 

That sees through tears the jugglers 

leap, — 
Would now its wearied vision close, 
Would childlike on His love repose, 
Who " giveth His beloved, sleep." 




\ 



And, friends, dear friends, — when shall 

it be 
That this low breath is gone from me, 
And round my bier ye come to weep, 
Let one, most loving of you all, 
Say, " Not a tear must o'er her fall — 
He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning* 




[135] 




— 



- - 



_ri 




RECESSIONAL 

)OD of our fathers, known of 
old- 
Lord of our far-flung battle 
line — 
Beneath whose awful hand 
we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 





The tumult and the shouting dies — 
The Captains and the Kings depart — 

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, 
An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

Far-called our navies melt away — 
On dune and headland sinks the fire— 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget I 




[136] 




MM 



IMM 




If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not Thee in 
awe — 

Such boastings as the Gentiles use, 
Or lesser breeds without the Law — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 




For heathen heart that puts her trust 

In reeking tube and iron shard — 
All valiant dust that builds on dust, 
And guarding calls not Thee to 
guard — 
For frantic boast and foolish word, 
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord ! 

Amen. 
— Rudyard Kipling. 




[i37] 




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Hi 



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ABIDE WITH ME 

BIDE with me ! fast falls the 
even-tide ; 
The darkness deepens ; Lord, 

with me abide. 
When other helpers fail, and 
comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass 

away : 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou, who changest not, abide with 

me ! 

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; 
But, as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, 

Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide, with 

me! 

Come not in terrors, as the King of 

kings ; 
But kind and good, with healing in Thy 

wings ; 

[138] 





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Tears for all woes, a heart for every 

plea; 
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus 'bide 

with rne ! 




Thou on my head in early youth didst 

smile ; 
And, though rebellious and perverse 

meanwhile, 
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee : 
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me. 

I need Thy Presence every passing hour : 
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's 

power ? 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can 

be? 
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide 

with me ! 




I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to 
bless : 

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitter- 
ness : 

Where is Death's sting? where, Grave, 
thy victory ? 

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me ! 

[ i39] 




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Hold then Thy cross before my closing 

eyes ! 
Shine through the gloom, and point me 

to the skies ! 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's 

vain shadows flee ; 
In life and death, Lord, abide with 

me I 

— Henry Francis Lyte. 





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NATURE 

S a fond mother, when the day 
is o'er, 
Leads by the hand her little 

child to bed, 
Half willing, half reluctant 
to be led, 
And leave his broken playthings on the 

floor, 
Still gazing at them through the open 
door, 

Nor wholly reassured and comforted 

By promises of others in their stead, 

Which, though more splendid, may not 

please him more ; 
So Nature deals with us, and takes away 
Our playthings one by one, and by the 
hand 
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go 
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, 
Being too full of sleep to understand 
How far the unknown transcends the 
what we know. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 




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flfc 







THE DAY IS DONE 

'HE day is done and the dark- 
ness 
Falls from the wings of 
Night, 
As a feather is wafted down- 
ward 
From an eagle in his flight. 

I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 

That my soul cannot resist : 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 
And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain. 

Come, read to me some poem, 
Some simple and heartfelt lay, 

That shall soothe this restless feeling, 
And banish the thoughts of day. 

Not from the grand old masters, 
Not from the bards sublime, 

Whose distant footsteps echo 
Through the corridors of Time. 

[ 142] 





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For, like strains of martial music, 
Their mighty thoughts suggest 

Life's endless toil and endeavor ; 
And to-night I long for rest. 

Read from some humbler poet, 

Whose songs gushed from his heart, 

As showers from the clouds of summer 
Or tears from the eyelids start ; 

Who, through long days of labor, 

And nights devoid of ease, 
Still heard in his soul the music 

Of wonderful melodies. 

Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
And come like the benediction 

That follows after prayer. 

Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice ; 

And the night shall be filled with music, 
And the cares, that infest the day, 

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away. 

— Henry WadsworthLong fellow. 

[143] 





«Mi 








CROSSING THE BAR 



UNSET and evening star, 
And one clear call for me ! 
And may there be no moaning 
of the bar, 
When I put out to sea. 



But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the 
boundless deep 

Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell 

And after that the dark ! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell, 

When I embark ; 

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and 
Place 
The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 
When I have cross'd the bar. 

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 





[i44] 




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INDEX TO AUTHORS 




Adams, Sabah Flower 131 

Bayly, Thomas Haynes 41 

Bonae, Andbew 70 

Beooks, Phillips Ill 

Bbowning, Elizabeth Baeeett . 19, 27, 33, 

113, 133 

Beowning, Eobebt 34, 59, 130 

Buenett, Thomas 42 

Buens, Eobebt 31, 37 

Carey, H 79 

Caey, Phcebe 15 

Coleeidge, Hartley 14 

Douglas 77 

Dwight, John Sullivan 58 

Geay, Thomas 97 

Heeeick, Bobeet 39, 110 

Higman, Maey 30 

Hood, Thomas 82, 92 

Houghton, Loed 24 

Hunt, Leigh 29, 90 

[145] 




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Jonson, Ben 36 

KlNGSLEY, CHARLES 13, 26 

Kipling, Budyard 136 

Lindsay, M 28 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 57, 141, 142 

Lowell, James Eussell 10 

Lyte, Henry Francis 138 

MacDonald, George ...... 9, 88 

Manville, Marion 21 

Matheson, George 129 

Moore, Thomas 17, 95, 108 

Newman, John Henry 126 

Pope, Alexander 94 

Eossetti, Christina G 53, 55 

Eossetti, Dante Gabriel 119 

Shakespeare, William .... 6, 85, 87 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe 86 

Sidney, Philip 16 

Stevenson, Eobert Louis 51 

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 45, 114, 117, 128, 144 

Whittier, John Greenleaf ..... 49 

Wolfe, 83 

Wordsworth, William 7, 75 





[146] 




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INDEX TO TITLES AND FIRST 
LINES 




Abou Ben Adhem 90 

Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase . 90 

Abide With Me 138 

Abide with me,! fast falls the even-tide . . 138 

A good wife rose from her bed one morn . 42 

A kindly deed 52 

And so I find it well to come 49 

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er . . 141 

At the midnight, in the silence .... 34 

Baby 88 

Believe Me, If All Those Endearing 

Young Charms 17 

Believe me, if all those endearing young 

charms 17 

Beside the home fire's cheerful glow ... 50 

Better to sit at the water's birth .... 9 

Better to have the love of one 29 

Be True 70 

Bid me to live, and I will live ...... 39 

Blessed Damozel, The 119 

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind ... 85 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind 85 

Break, Break, Break 128 

Break, break, break, on thy cold grey 

stones, O sea 128 

[147] 







Bbook, The 114 

Bbookside, The 24 

Burial of Sib John Moobe at Cobunna, 

The 83 

Canadian Boat-Song, A 95 

Celestial Subgeon, The 51 

Cheeb and Joy Be Thine 50 

Comfobt 113 

Counsel to Gibls 110 

Cbadle Song 45 

Cbossing the Bab 144 

Daffodils 75 

Day Is Done, The 142 

Ditty, A 16 

Do all the good you can 48 

Dolcino to Mabgabet 26 

Do you remember when you heard ... 41 

DoYoubDuty . . , 73 

Drink to me only with thine eyes .... 36 

Elegy Wbitten in a Countby Chubch- 

yabd 97 

Epilogue— To Asolando 34 

Fain would I change that note 8 

Faintly as tolls the evening chime .... 95 

First time he kissed me 27 

Folded hands are ever weary 73 

Fob A? That and A> That 31 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may . . . . 110 

God Be With You 55 

[148] 





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God Keep You Safe 30 

God keep you safe, my love 30 

God of our fathers, known of old .... 136 

Grow old along with me 59 




Happy the man, whose wish and care . . 94 
How little it costs, if we give it a thought . 72 




I come from haunts of coot and hern . . . 114 

I never crossed your threshold with a grief . 5 

I remember, I remember 92 

I think true love is never blind .... 15 

I wandered by the brookside 24 

I wandered lonely as a cloud 75 

I would flood your path with sunshine . . 56 

If any little love of mine 46 

If I have faltered more or less 51 

Is there, for honest poverty 31 

Just a sprig of Scottish heather .... 21 

Kindly Deed, A 52 

Kind Word, A 72 

Lead, Kindly Light 126 

Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling 

gloom 126 

Let me not, to the marriage of true minds . 6 

Light of Other Days, The 108 

Love 29 

Loving Word, A 54 

Lucy 7 

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Maiden, A 14 

Many a heart is hungry, starving .... 71 

Maxwelton Braes 77 

Maxwelton braes are bonnie ..... 77 

Memory 87 

My Love 10 

My true love hath my heart, and I have his 16 

Music 86 

Music, when soft voices die 86 

Nature 141 

Nearer, My God, to Thee 131 

Nearer, my God, to Thee 131 

No Failure or Defeat 74 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note . 83 

Not as all other women are 10 

O Little Town of Bethlehem .... Ill 

O little town of Bethlehem Ill 

O Love, That Wilt Not Let Me Go . . 129 

O love, that wilt not let me go 129 

O my heart's heart and you who are to me . 55 

Of all the girls that are so smart .... 79 

Of all the thoughts of God that are . . . 133 

Oft in the stilly night 108 

Old, Old Song, The 13 

Omnia Vincit 8 

Past and Present . 92 

Pippa Passes 130 

Quiet Boom, The 49 

[ISO] 






Eabbi Ben Ezra 59 

Eecessional 136 

Rest 58 

Rest is not quitting 58 

Ring Out, Wild Bells 117 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky . . . 117 

Ruth 82 

Sally In Our Alley 79 

She is not fair to outward view 14 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways . . 7 

She stood breast-high amid the corn ... 82 

Sleep, The 133 

Solitude 94 

Song 53 

Song of the Heart, A 46 

Sonnet, A 33 

Sonnet 27 

Sonnets From the Portuguese ... 19 

Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet 113 

Sprig of Heather, A 21 

Stay, Stay at Home 57 

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest . . 57 

Sunset and evening star 144 

Sweet and low, sweet and low 45 

Sympathy 47 





Take time to speak a loving word . . 
The blessed damozel leaned out . . . 
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day 
The day is done and the darkness . . . 

[i5i] 




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IMM 




The world goes up and the world goes down 26 

The year's at the spring t -. 130 

Then hide it not, the music of thy soul . . 47 

Then take this honey for the bitterest cup . 74 

Thou Lingering Star 37 

Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray . . 37 

Thou must be true thyself 70 

Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes . . 33 

Thy Voice Is Near Me 28 

Thy voice is near me in my dreams ... 28 

To Anthea 39 

To Celia . 36 

True Friendship 5 

True Love 6, 15 

Well of Love, A 9 

Wesley's Eule 48 

When all the world is young, lad .... 13 

When I am dead, my dearest 53 

When our two souls stand up, erect and 

strong 19 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 87 

Where did you come from, baby dear . . 88 

Where Love Is 42 

Word of Cheer, A 56 

Word of Love, A 71 




You'll Love Me— Won't You?. ... 41 




[152] 




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OCT 27 WW 



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